Summer 4981, Date Unknown

The rabbit sniffed the air and She froze, holding Her breath. Even now, those huge ears were probably trying to determine the nature of the loud thumping that was Her heart.

She'd tried to pretend that the rabbit was actually a terrifying beast sent to hunt Her, and that She, in Her cleverness, had turned the tables to hunt it… But no. It was a bunny, soft fur a muddy brown now that the spring melt in the lowlands had become the summer melt in the highlands. So She tried a different game. Her treasures were starving, and it was up to Her, as the only one capable, to find food. That was ever so slightly closer to the truth, so She let her imagination run with it.

Her prey returned to munching on the fresh shoots breaking through the frozen slush. Keeping Her crouch low, She stepped gingerly forward. Her slipper didn’t crunch on the stubborn ice; it splashed as it melted beneath the warmth of Her foot. The rabbit looked up again, and She stopped, realizing Her mistake. It could probably feel Her looking at it. After all, She could feel its nervousness. Each twitch of its ear, every sniff of the air, told her it was strongly considering running, just in case.

Shifting Her gaze to a nearby bush -still leafless but with tiny buds beginning to sprout from what otherwise looked like dead twigs- She tried to stare at the plant but focus on the bunny still in Her field of view.

It wasn’t working. Her eyes kept flicking back to the rabbit. Clenching Her fists, She focused harder on the bush in frustration. But that ended up being worse. Her neck started to itch, the bush began to smoke, and the rabbit bound away. She dove, even if She only managed to brush its tail with Her fingertips, She would count that as a win…

She belly-flopped in the mud with a splash, the bunny long gone. “Damn,” She pushed up to Her hands and knees to stand only to find that She continued rising, Her palms and then Her feet dangling off the ground,

“NO. No no no.” She kicked and screamed, twisting around and nearly ripping Her dress to try and pry the massive hand off of Her back. The stone fingers wouldn’t budge, and there was nothing the young girl could do to stop the monster from picking Her up and carrying Her away.

*** 

The rumble in the ground had both the journeymen looking over, their conversation halting mid-sentence. A moment later, the breaking of wood beneath rock was accompanied by a girl’s voice, growing louder as She was carried closer, “I still had five more feet at least! I’m not even five feet tall, put me down, I’m not done yet…”

Brom and Ran sighed in unison, stepping away from the shade of the tower to meet the stone man and his angry baggage. The golem was eight feet tall and built with limbs and chest twice the width of a strong man. Its head, in contrast, was only about as large as that of the young girl slung over its shoulder. Featureless, it looked more like a pile of stones stacked in the shape of a man rather than a statue come to life. It didn’t argue with the girl still kicking and screaming, pounding its back with small fists in protest. Even if it had a mouth, it wouldn’t have argued. It didn’t know how. Didn’t know anything. It was a magical construct, one of many that guarded the perimeter of the tower complex.

“Trying to escape again, Red?” Ran called over the girl’s continued protests. The girl turned awkwardly to glare, the construct still pinning Her about the hips on its shoulder. Dark blue eyes flashed red for a moment, the color matching the three scaled stripes on Her right cheek. They came together just below Her ear, and continued down Her neck to disappear under Her dress.

“I still had five feet.” She shouted, though the golem was now close enough that it had stopped walking. She crossed her arms petulantly as the construct picked Her up again and set Her down in front of the Journeymen before lumbering back into the forest of tall evergreens, breaking more sticks and crunching smaller rocks on the way.

The girl looked even younger than usual, her entire front covered in mud as if She had thought to lay down in a puddle as part of whatever game She'd been playing. Not yet a teenager and caked in mud, Her scowl was less than intimidating.

“Sure, Goldy,” Brom said, “and next time, it will be only three feet, and then only one. And then it will be ‘I was only two feet over the line.’”

“Why give me a line if I can’t even get to it!” the girl grumbled, lowering Her chin to try and glare at them but having to blow some of the golden hair out of Her eyes to see.

Brom chuckled and Ran shrugged, “Come on, you need to change…”

“What are you doing?” the soft voice interrupted the journeyman, and both swiveled toward the door and the Archmage standing in it.

Ran swallowed noticeably, and Brom scanned the Archmage’s face, trying to tell exactly who they would be dealing with this time. The girl declared confidently, “You said I could play outside today, so I was playing outside. Your golem is broken. I still had five more feet before…” 

“I said you could come outside, I didn’t say you could go near the boundary, and I didn’t say you could roll around in the mud.”

“I wasn’t! What is the point of a border if-” She started to argue again, but the words were cut short by a snap of the Archmage’s fingers. She coughed, choking until the Archmage snapped again, and She gasped for air. Brom didn’t need to look at Her to know She was pulling at the golden collar.

“Come on, Red, let’s get you cleaned up and…” Ran started softly.

The Archmage’s eyes flashed to him instead, and Ran swallowed again. So this was the man they were dealing with this time. Archmage Morndancer was often unpredictable. Sometimes he was stern, sometimes cruel, and sometimes, just to make things worse, he was kind. Like when he'd given the girl permission to go outside today.

“Show some respect Ran, she is not ‘Red.’ She is the Firewyrm.” Right now, he was merely stern.

“Take the Firewyrm back to her rooms. It is nearly time for supper, and you both have work to do.” turning, the Archmage seemed to melt back into the shadows of the doorway, disappearing into the tower and leaving the two younger men to their task.

Brom finally turned to look at the girl, the Firewyrm. A title. A description. She didn’t have a name, and the Archmage didn’t approve of nicknames. She was looking at the ground, Her arms hanging limp from Her fingers, still hooked around a collar the same lustrous gold as Her hair. “Come on, you can take a bath before you go back to your room.” The Firewyrm nodded. Letting Her hands fall to Her sides, She walked past them to follow Archmage Morndancer into the tower. 

***

The entryway was wedge-shaped, just like every other room in the tower proper. The wide end made up the exterior wall, with the narrow point ending at a circular landing with a spiral stair leading both up into the tower and down into the basement. The Archmage climbed the spiral stairs, pausing when he heard the shuffle of the Firewyrm's muddy slippers below, heading down. He felt a flicker of shame at having stopped Her argument so harshly. She was his greatest achievement. She was… a dead-end.

His thoughts overlapped, speaking in two languages. Two very different ideas, both true. He shook his head and continued up the stairs to the second floor and the library that claimed all of it. He passed shelves and shelves of books and records, aisles shooting out from the stairs like the spokes of a wheel. Two apprentices looked up from their studies as he spiraled up, but he didn’t bother to acknowledge them, and they quickly went back to their work. What could they possibly find in the records that he wouldn’t have years before?… They are fresh eyes.

The library ceiling became the floor of the next level as he continued to climb. The stairway becoming encased in stone walls with doors set at intervals leading to personal rooms and storage areas. He paid the doors no more attention than he had the apprentices below, continuing up to the highest level.

We need more samples… more power.

At the final landing, he reached a short ladder with a trap door above him, leading to the roof. He didn’t reach for the handle or push the door open. Instead, he began to chant, letting his fingers trace along the crease between wood and stone. Purple light that trailed star-like pricks followed his fingers, by the time he circled back to where he'd started the entirety of the portal was a blanket of purple starry night. When he pushed on the door, it didn’t swing open onto the tower's roof, but instead opened into the literal heart of the tower— and his private rooms.

Perhaps one of the other Talons had made progress… but none of them could do what I did… the greatest achievement… the dead-end… the blasphemy… the dragons.

With a muttered spell five torches lit themselves around the circular room. Their fires radiated unnatural light of green, blue, black, white, and red, set in metal sconces of copper, brass, bronze, silver, and gold, respectively. His thoughts continued to race in layers, like two people trying to talk at once. Sometimes the first would repeat what the second had said previously, and that second would state the opposite but equally valid argument of the first. It didn’t give him a headache anymore. He was used to it.

An oval mirror hung between the white and red flames, the gems set in its frame flashing. Morndancer approached with a sigh, studying his reflection rather than answering the summons. From a distance, he looked as he always did, an older man in his late fifties, dark eyes, light blond hair, but as he leaned forward, he tilted his head and ran long fingers down his neck. Scales had started to form there, similar to the Firewyrm's stripes but lacking color, the same shade as his skin. They were small and very fine, hardly noticeable unless you were looking for them. They were a blessing from his master, and running his hands along them made him smile, revealing teeth that had grown sharper over the years of studying the magic of the Outer Planes.

The gems continued to flash. He didn’t actually want to put off this conversation. Still, just as his thoughts contradicted each other with separate truths, he also didn’t want to speak with anyone at the moment. He waved his hand over the glass, and his reflection wavered, dissolving then reforming into the face of a woman. She had also been blessed by their master, though with eyes that shifted in color, ranging from metallic silver to ruby red and every shade of metal or sacred gem in-between. “I hope you are calling to report a success?” Morndancer asked, using a language those behind her might still understand.

Shaloon’s strange eyes twinkled, confirming his hopes even before she answered, “Yes, I have two here, and there is one more in the village we will take in the coming weeks.”

Morndancer narrowed his eyes at the hulking brutes behind his relatively small companion. They were giving her a wide berth as they jostled and pushed each other, great fangs slurring their words as they cursed at each other, “I hope you are keeping them well away from the more dangerous tools.”

“Of course. Though I will be transferring them to you shortly. I don’t want to lose any of this particular clan as examples if they should try and go for a midnight snack. They have proven to be quite effective.”

Shaloon had a way with the draken. Though barely intelligent enough to speak, they served as powerful muscle, and more importantly, convincing masks, “The Temple hasn’t come?”

In the mirror, Shaloon waved a dismissive hand, “They will eventually,”

“That is the risk with taking such samples…” Morndancer ran his palm over his neck, shooting a glance away from the Archmage in the mirror and towards a form flitting through the shadows cast by his wardrobe between the green and black lights. He usually disapproved of the woman's preferred method of gaining new samples, but they needed more than the young wyrms were able to provide. “We will make do with three, come back with the last once it is obtained.”

“Very well,” any others they might find would still be there when they were forced to go hunting again, and even if they weren’t, their descendants would be.

Shaloon and Morndancer ended the call in unison, Shaloon placing her finger on the glass where Morndancer placed his hand and both swiping to the side. His reflection showed again in the mirror, but he paid it no mind, turning instead to his wardrobe and the little creature perched atop it.

Much like a cat, it preferred high places, where it could split its time napping and surveying the room. Leathery wings spread out and draped over the wardrobe’s doors as its long neck snaked down to look more closely at Morndancer. It blinked one set of eyelids and then the other, speaking directly to the Archmage's mind in the voice of his master, 'even my patience has a limit. How many more centuries of failure should I wait?'

“We are nearly there…”

'You are exactly where you were three centuries ago,' the small creature hissed, its long barbed tail flicking angrily, its scales shifting from a dull brown to a deep red for a moment, 'Humans… with each generation, you take two steps forward and one back. And in the next, one forward and two back.'

“The Wyrms, no one before…”

'Your greatest success and proof of your ultimate and destined failure.'

Morndancer flinched, looking away from the creature small enough to drape itself over his shoulders, as though afraid it might swallow him whole. It purred, drawing his eyes again, 'never stop trying, but be ready when I chose to come myself.'

An image of roiling black clouds, unlit by the multi-colored lighting flashing across its surface, forced itself into Morndancer’s mind. He fell to his knees, gripping his head at the pain of it. The earth cracked beneath his feet, trees fell around him as water rose to drown him. Mountains erupted in the distance, raining ash and fire on a frozen landscape. Islands rose from the depths as the world was destroyed and recreated all at once.

He screamed, closing his eyes. But the image was in his mind and couldn’t be blocked. Great leathery wings sprouted from the water, and another set shaped themselves out of the falling flames. Behemoths as large as mountains crawled from the crevices of the earth and fell from the sky. A serpentine neck formed from ice, topped by a reptilian head, sprouting horns from its skull and teeth as long as greatswords from its maw.

One way or another, the dragons would return to the world. And Morndancer's screams turned to a laugh. He laughed maniacally from the floor of his room, safe in his tower. One way... or another… 

*** 

She took the tray, careful not to touch Ran’s hands. Looking down at the meal of roasted meat, charred on the sides exactly as She liked, She asked, “Will you eat with me?” already knowing the answer. 

“We have reports to read Firewyrm. Perhaps next time.” Ran answered. She couldn’t see Brom nod his agreement but was sure he had, and so She didn’t bother to look up before turning away from Her guards and taking the plate to Her bed. They preferred Her not to eat there, but if they weren’t going to stay with Her anyway, She didn’t care what they preferred. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a small bookshelf beside a single chair with a side table and her bed, its red velvet hangings the only warmth in the cold stone room.

She heard the door lock click as She took Her first bite. She looked away from it towards the only window, small and set high in the wall, just above the outside ground and covered with bars. How many weeks would it be before She was allowed outside again? Perhaps next time She would stay nearer the tower, maybe then She could stay out longer…

Looking down at Her plate, She brushed a stray strand of hair behind Her ear. It had grown long again. She should count herself lucky that the Archmage hadn’t ordered it cut and other samples taken when he'd seen Her today. Perhaps tomorrow. They would cut it to Her cheeks so She wouldn’t even be able to pull it out of Her face for a few days before it would grow again, reaching mid-back in a few weeks. They said Her hair grew alarmingly fast. All She knew was that She preferred it long.

The door clicked again, and She looked up sharply to see a robed back pushing the door open, the Journeyman's hands full of books and parchment. Brom closed the door with his foot, turned a smiling face towards Her, and said, “I can read as easily here as I can in the lab.”

Jumping from Her bed and nearly upending Her plate, She rushed towards him, grabbing at the stack of books to help only to have Brom twist them away from Her, “Careful now, no singeing the parchment.” She puffed out Her cheeks but could tell he was only teasing. It had been years since She'd burned any of their papers.

With a dramatic huff, She turned away from him, flicking Her fingers and lighting the extra candles on Her table. The move had Her neck itching again, as though the collar were bracing itself to choke Her for the use of magic. But Brom never punished Her that way. “You’ve been practicing,” he said instead.

“I can do more! I can…” She started excitedly as he placed his books on Her side table and settled in the one chair available in the little room.

“Not today Goldy, not with these in the room.” he admonished Her, though kindly, taking the top book and opening it on his lap to read.

She growled, indignant, but returned to Her bed and Her dinner without showing him what else She could do. He would see the next time She was allowed to visit Her treasures.

She finished Her meal and Brom His first bit of reading before She spoke again, “What about Ron…” She said, tapping her fork on the empty plate with soft tinks that filled the otherwise quiet room, “or Bram?”

“You will know your name when you know it, Firewyrm, stop trying to take ours.” Brom turned a page without looking up at Her. She whined, throwing Herself back on Her bed, arms wide and eyes staring at the red cloth ceiling. How was She supposed to just ‘know’ Her name? She'd asked again and again but was always given the same answer. Now She was still trying to make one, but they always denied Her efforts.

“How about…”

“I’m trying to read.” Brom interrupted without looking up.

She sighed, rolling over. Then rolled again right off the side of the bed and onto the floor before pulling Herself up to drag Her feet across the stone floor towards Her modest bookshelf. Not bothering to look at which of the books She'd already read fifty times each She pulled from the shelf, She dragged Her feet back, and collapsed onto the bed again.

Brom ignored Her dramatics.

With another sigh, She crawled to Her pillows, taking great care to arrange them just right before leaning against them and opening the book. It was written in draconic, and She began to read when Brom spoke, “Here…” Placing Her finger on the line She'd reached, She looked up to see the Journeyman holding out a book in Her direction, though he still hadn’t looked up from his own reading.

Much more quickly than before, and without the theatrics, She crawled to the foot of Her bed and ran over to retrieve the offered book. This one was written in common, but more importantly, it was new. At least to Her. The leather cover was worn through in places, and the title was faded beyond recognition.

“You can keep it.” She looked up to find Brom finally looking at Her, “Just promise you won’t burn the pages at the exciting bits.”

“What is it?” She chose to ignore his teasing, more excited at having something new to read than annoyed at his continued lack of faith in Her abilities.

“Shhh…” he raised a finger to his lips conspiratorially, “It’s a fiction, banned by the Temple of Saint Giorgos,”

“Ooh,” She gripped the book tightly and ran back to Her bed, jumping onto it to continue the short run to Her pillows before plopping down. She was much more careful in opening it than She had been in bringing it to Her reading spot. The first line read, ‘Though a god, Yoryuu didn’t understand why the humans feared his children so…’

Brom had returned to his own reading but explained, “It’s about the dragon gods walking the earth as human…”

“And that’s why it's been banned?” She looked up to see Brom shrug.

“Why else would the Slayer ban anything?”

With a snort of derision followed by a snicker of glee at the prospect of reading something She wasn't supposed to, She went back to Her book. Finally, a new book. It would help Her stave off the boredom of the coming weeks locked in her room. Now it wouldn’t matter that She wouldn’t be allowed outside for a few months. She could escape into the pages and lose Herself in a life that wasn’t Hers.